Waiting
by scoottt
Summary: Dave always waited up for Bro before he went to bed. Always. What happens when Bro finally gets sick of Dave being so dependent on his presence? Stridercest.


**A/N -** So, I felt the need to write some bro-lovin' between Dave and, well, Bro. They're an adorable pair, and yeah. Ignore any grammar mistakes, because I wrote this while half-asleep.

**Warnings** - Incest, language, who the hell cares.

**Disclaimer - **I do not own anything from Homestuck. All characters and whatnot belong to Andrew Hussie.

* * *

><p>The opalesque hues from the muted television illuminated the lightly sleeping face of the male on the futon through the darkness. He had again been waiting into the wee hours of the morning, waiting for his brother—well, ectoplasm-bound brother—to return from jegus-knows-where. As the blonde usually assumed, which his suppositions were nearly always correct, his older brother was off clubbing, screwing just about everything in sight, since no one could seem to resist a Strider. That, in turn, left his thirteen-year-old self all alone, to his own defences in an eerily silent apartment full of plush, dong-nosed puppets and a refrigerator full of shitty swords. And, despite his cool kid façade, Dave Strider hated being alone, which is why he always waited for the other, just always wanting to know that he would be coming home again, instead of leaving him eternally alone.<p>

During the long, uneventful wait, Dave had lost the fight with the lulling waves of sleep. He now sat slumped, head back and mouth slightly agape, drooling just the slightest bit (which Dave refused to admit he had a drooling problem when he slept), fingers lightly furled around the remote in his lap. The dark aviators remained on his face as they always did, though they now were slightly crooked. Dave always attempted to stay awake until the moment Bro returned home, but only after so many sleepless nights and mornings could he stay attentive, and now sleep had gotten the better of him.

Only the sound of the door opening and then slamming shut awoke the sleeping teen, who fixed himself up a tad, sitting upright as he listened and waited for Bro to make his way into the living room. Cursing and the squeaks of smuppets being kicked out of the way could be heard as the elder Strider clumsily stumbled through the hall, finally making his appearance in the room where Dave had been sitting. Behind the taller blonde's pointed shades, his glazed eyes narrowed at seeing his younger sibling just sitting there, looking at him. "The fuck are you doing awake?" Bro hissed, "You have school tomorrow, dicknuts. Go the fuck to bed."

Even from five feet away, Dave could smell the alcohol on Bro. It wasn't even just a lingering scent, though; it was more like Bro had been swimming in an Olympic pool full of booze, which made the thirteen-year-old scrunch his nose slightly in disgust. The liquor smelled vile to him, and he had no idea why Bro drank it. Whenever he asked him about why he did, Bro just told him that he'd know when he was older. Quite frankly, the sober Strider didn't think that he really wanted to. "I was waiting for you."

At that, Bro sneered, shaking his head. Dave always did this, but tonight, it pissed him off. He was a few drinks past the "angry drunk" limit, and just the sight of Dave being so uncool and ruining all of the training (_trust__ and__ depend__ on__ no __one__ but __yourself,__ everyone __is__ out __to__ get__ you_) was enraging him. "No fucking shit, Dave. Now go to fucking sleep." Watching the child with eyes like a hawk, he waited for him to get up and head off to his room to sleep. When Dave disobeyed, Bro cleared the few feet between them quickly, balling his fist up in the front of Dave's red-sleeved record shirt, roughly tugging him up. "Go to bed."

With Bro now right upon him, the odour of the booze was enveloping him, making his insides churn as he defiantly shook his head. In truth, he really did just want to slink off to his room and never come back out, but he wasn't fond of the fact that Bro thought he could just order him around. "You need to calm down, Bro." The eyes behind his aviators shut themselves tightly as Bro began to violently shake him by the front of his own shirt.

"I'm fucking sick of you, Dave," Bro said, his voice a low growl drifting on the smell of hard liquor. "You're such a fucking pussy now. 'Oh, Bro, I didn't want to go to sleep until I knew you were here.'" Dave could hear the sound of Bro's teeth grinding against one another as he unsuccessfully attempted to calm down. "Why do you keep waiting? What are you looking for?"

The thirteen-year-old was thankful for the dark shades covering his own eyes as tears began to nestle themselves along the reddening rims. To keep them from escaping, he tried not to blink, but the moment he did, they all spilled out from under the sunglasses and slid down his pale cheeks, iridescent in the glow of the forgotten television. Striders weren't supposed to cry. Bro's harsh words met his ears at the sight of the rivulets upon his cheeks, "You're like a fucking little girl. It's pathetic—_you__'__re_ pathetic."

In disgust of the supposedly pansy-like antics of his upset brother, Bro forcefully discarded him, pushing him back onto the futon, listening as Dave's pretty head hit hard on the metal arm of the makeshift bed, causing the aviators to sit haphazardly on his face. He watched Dave bring a hand to the place of contact and wince, staring at the blood on his thin fingertips with his eyes of the same crimson colour. When the sound of Dave questioningly saying his name met his ears, Bro only backhanded him, leather leaving a dark red mark.

Dave's head was whipped to the side by the force of the hit, aviators now thrown from his head, clattering to the floor next to the futon. It took him a few moments to realise what just happened, gently brushing his bloodied fingertips over the stinging handprint on his cheek. After what happened really set in, Dave bolted from the partial sofa, making for the door that lead out of their apartment. Yet, even when drunk, Bro was faster, looming over the frightened teen as he blocked the path. This was nothing like their usual roof sparring. This was pure, drunken rage. "Don't try to run from a fight, Dave."

With that said, the older blonde shoved the victim of his fury to the floor, watching intently from behind his pointed shades as the other landed on his ass with a thud, shaking palms placed on the ground to support himself. When Dave made no attempt to get up, Bro kicked him in the side, the sound of at least one rib cracking reaching both Strider males' ears. "Come on, man. You forget everything I trained you to do?"

This time, he gave the now-wheezing boy a chance to get up, which Dave only complied with to avoid further broken ribs. It took him a try or two to actually get on his feet, knees feeling weak due to the laboured breathing. Red-rimmed ruby eyes waveringly looked through the shades to Bro's own blood-red orbs, hoping to be able to see the motive behind this, but it was so difficult to see through the dark, obscuring spectacles.

They just stood there, staring at one another, one nigh impossible to read and the other an open book, red eyes flashing with emotion, no longer hidden by their own shades. Dave's hands cradled his busted ribs while Bro's gloved hands stayed at his sides, furling and unfurling. In Dave's eyes the hurt and confusion was apparent, but the battle to attempt to build up his cool kid façade again for Bro was clearly there as well. Eventually, Dave lifted his chin as proudly as he could after crying, continuing to look his brother in the shaded eyes.

Keeping his eyes fixed on his younger brother, Bro stalked forward, and with each step he took, Dave took one backwards, until his back was to the wall. The man in the white polo balled his right hand into a fist once more, aiming for Dave's face as he slammed his fist forward. The force was absorbed by the wall as he kept the punch just a few centimetres from Dave's precious face. A chuckle escaped past the booze-tainted lips of Bro as he leaned down, lips brushing against the shell of the other blonde's ear as he slurred, "Expect the unexpected."

With that said, warm, liquor-scented breath puffing against his brother's ear, he bit down, rather harshly, on the cartilage, making Dave shift in his spot just the slightest tad. Bro could tell he was trying still to keep his cool, perhaps to regain his respect. The metallic taste of blood soon graced his lips as he pulled away from Dave for a moment to just observe him. His red eyes were irresolute, battling between the option to take this like a Strider or to attempt escape once more.

When Dave remained still, Bro took that as an invite to test and push his limits. To do so, he entwined his hand into the blonde locks at the back of Dave's head, fingerless leather gloves letting him keep a good grip as he tugged his head back and smashed their lips together in a bruising kiss. Their teeth occasionally hit together during the vicious kiss, Bro biting at the other's full bottom lip, easily drawing blood, which elicited a soft sound of displeasure from the confused Dave. The teenager didn't reciprocate the kiss, but he wasn't fighting it, whether because he wanted it or because he was trying to prove himself or something not clear to Bro.

The man pressed his thigh between Dave's, holding him in place both like that and by taking both slender wrists up in one hand and pinning them to the wall above his head. Moving his leg against Dave's crotch, a small sound of unwilling pleasure and surprise escaped his brother's bleeding lips, giving him the entrance that he wanted. His tongue slid past the parted, bloodied lips, tracing along all of the features of his younger brother's mouth. All the while, his eyes remained open behind the shades, watching Dave's face intensely, especially his troubled eyes. There was obvious mental turmoil for the thirteen-year-old. His mind screamed a good-reasoned "no," while his body begged for more, in the middle of going through all of his hormonal changes. This left him in a state of tingling acquiescence, free for his brother to corrupt.

A trademark Bro Strider smirk played on his lips as he let go of the younger's wrists and hair, shifting back an inch or two before gripping Dave's shoulders, pressuring him down to his knees in front of him. Dave wasn't stupid, knowing what Bro was getting at, and he leaned away in distaste. "Gross, dude." He flipped his blonde hair to the side, attempting to come off as nonchalant despite his insides quaking.

"Just think of this as more training," Bro replied, tousling Dave's hair with one hand while the other futzed with the button and zipper of his pants, soon clearing the way for the chilled air of the apartment to ghost across the sensitive flesh. A small, throaty chuckle was given in response to Dave's eyes going wide at how well-endowed he was, red irises fully visible. Lightly patting the bruised cheek of the one on his knees, Bro requested, "Open up."

Dave clenched his teeth and shook his head in a negative fashion, refusing to part his jaws, only slackening them when Bro's hand furled back into a fist. He could see the smirk on Bro's features as he partially complied, and the calloused thumb of the previously fisted hand was now inserted past his split lips, placing itself between his molars in the back to keep his mouth open long enough to fit himself inside. When pale eyelids shut tightly over erubescent irises, Bro took that as an indirect signal to get the dirty act over with. Gladly he did so, sliding his length past the bleeding lips of his little brother.

Shivers ran down the spines of both Striders, though for different reasons. The warm, damp feeling of Dave's mouth caused the spinal tickles for Bro while the fleshy obstruction now in his mouth made Dave's muscles cringe, sending the shudder along his spine. Tentatively, Dave brushed his tongue against the hot, smooth skin of his brother, shying away at the strange feeling of the throbbing veins. Above his head, Bro was saying something, but the smaller blonde couldn't focus on anything coming from the other's mouth with what was in his own. Due to that, he missed the warning before Bro thrust his hips forward, sending his dick sliding down his throat, which instinctively constricted, making him gag.

Instead of hitting the inexperienced teen, Bro let his fingers play in Dave's soft hair as he waited for him to get used to the feeling. It took a few moments, but soon the other's airway was relaxed once more, and he pulled his hips back some. He continued in this fashion, slowly but deeply rocking his hips, pushing in and nearly out of Dave's mouth each time. It almost surprised him—almost, since it was impossible to surprise Bro Strider—when Dave's tongue began to curiously and shamefully taste the flesh.

At first, it was just a lick here and there, teasing at the sensitive skin, but as Dave became more adventurous, his tongue began to draw wet, dancing patterns, timed well along with each thrust of Bro's hips. The towering male kept his cool as always, keeping any sounds of pleasure silent within himself, hands gently tugging at the blonde locks in his grasp. Each trail of Dave's drifting tongue left a pleasurable, tingling sensation. Bro could feel the heat gathering in the pit of his stomach as he neared release, giving no warning as he let his load go. Dave was lucky enough to have this happen when Bro was nearly out instead of crammed down his throat, coughing just the slightest bit as the other ejaculated before hesitantly swallowing the bitter substance in his mouth.

Bro pulled out and away from the kneeling figure, fixing himself up as he said, "Isn't it better when you're being trained?" Those were the only words he offered as Dave drew the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping away and extra fluids, whether they were his brother's or his own. With that said, Bro walked off to his room, flopping lazily onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, hands clasped beneath his head. It was only a minute or two later that Dave entered the room and invited himself onto the bed. Snuggling up to Bro, he rested his head upon the older male's chest. Just a matter of seconds later, the thin blonde was out like a light.

Bro Strider slipped one arm around his younger brother's shoulders, keeping a firm and protective hold on him as he allowed him to cuddle.

Dave had earned it.


End file.
